Beneath the Deafening Roar
by MaisieWilliamsFangirl
Summary: "Noise is all around me; the ocean's waves that pound against the rocks far below, the wind that screams through the hallways, that slams and bangs the doors and shutters. Everything is loud and frightening, then I hear something, something painful and terrifying, something that rips my heart in two- beneath the deafening roar." - Saski Greyjoy
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One**

"Theon?" I call out nervously; my brother should be in here, Damon said he was... "Theon, it's Saski. Where are you?"

The great hall is dark, the sky outside gives no light, the sun shining weakly through the dense grey clouds, the snow falling steadily, a swirling white mass. I don't like it here.

This is The home of Starks, even the land is grey and white, Stark colours. We are miles inland, there are no ships, no ocean, and no way for the drowned god to hear our pleas; this is no place for ironborn.

"Theon?!" I call out in frustration, surely if he was here then the candles would be lit, and the great hearth. It is cold and dark, and deathly quiet.

"Sister," A voice calls out from behind me, I twirl around, feeling uncomfortable in this strange place. Theon stands in the doorway, snowflakes settling on his thick ash brown hair, his face is hard and stern, and his mouth a cruel line.

I look at him warily, he seems changed, even more so than he was when I saw him a moon's turn ago.

"Theon." I say softly and walk over to him, "Have you brought men? It was Asha I sent for, I did not know that you had men who would follow you; we need strong iron born warriors to defend my castle."

I sigh, "This is no place for us Theon, we are miles inland with no ships, the drowned god is too far away. This land has been the home of Starks for a thousand years; come home Theon, you have raided and shown the Northmen that we are strong, but this is not your castle to keep."

He frowns, "I am prince of Winterfell now Saski. And I will hold it until my last breath." I cross my arms, "You are a fool Theon Greyjoy. But if you wish to die so far from home, so be it. I will not lead others to die with you." His face turns dark with rage and for a moment I think that he will strike me.

"Go then." He says in a cold voice, "Run back to father." I look at him pleadingly, "Theon. You are my only brother and father's only son. You have proved yourself, just come home, come home Theon!"

He looks away, his arms folded across his chest. I look up at him sadly, my older brother, I never knew him, not really, and I fear that now I shall never see him again.

"Then I will leave on the morrow, please, think about this. Robb Stark is not likely to forget the murder of his little brothers, and the Northmen will defeat you easily." I sigh, looking sadly out the large bow windows of the great hall; the glass is tinted white with frost. I look out at the courtyard, a swirling cloud of grey and white, with the castle garrison looming behind, a dark shadow with two small heads mounted on its peak.

"Winter has come." I say quietly, my brother still silent and still as a statue, I turn back and I think there are tears in his eyes, but he walks away before I can be sure.

O/O/O/O/O

The next day we leave for Pyke, my brother doesn't say farewell, in fact he seems to have disappeared since our talk the eve before.

I ride into the snow, it fell thick last night and the wind whips through my coats and chills me to my soul. I look back sadly at Winterfell as I head back onto the winding stony road, I wonder if I will ever see Theon again. Then I turn my back on that quiet depressing castle, and our party rides swiftly for the shore.

As we head through the wolfswood, tall sentinel pines standing straight and dark above us, looming tall and strong, I hear the distant howl of a wolf, and I shiver.

But my men ride silently and I hurry to the front of the group, soon we are out of the woods and into the stony rolling hills with their tall grass, so faded and ghostly it looks more grey than green, I can't see the ocean yet, it will be a week's ride before we reach our ships, and another two months to return to Pyke.

I see a wolf on the crest of a far off hill, it stands so large that it is more the size of a horse than a dog, but as it tilts it head to the pale sky and echoes a mournful, terrible howl, so loud that it vibrates through every stone and each blade of grass seems to ripple as one, there is no mistaking that the creature is a direwolf, and that omen makes my heart sink.

O/O/O/O/O

My place is on a ship.

As I stand on the deck of Silent Tide, I feel free and happy. As each wave slaps against the hull and the spray half soaks me with its freezing splatters, I have never felt more alive.

But, as Pyke looms closer on the horizon I can't help but feel dread. My father has a terrible rage, and though he named Theon as a Stark, I know that he will mourn, and my poor sick mother... Asha, well, Asha is Asha, it's impossible to tell how she'll react, but Theon is a fool.

If he claims to be ironborn, then why stay there, in the place he named his prison, the place haunted by memories and shadows of a childhood with no love or true friendship.

True, my brother has become arrogant and cruel, but he is still my brother, no matter what our father and Asha might say.

Soon we are there, anchors dropped and row boats launched.

My men love me, but they do not respect me as they would my brother, if he weren't a fool. I am a girl of seventeen, and they are ironborn warriors. I earned their respect with my strength at command; I got that from my father. He always said that I was a born leader, I know how to make people love me, and I have a way with words, that was one of the only times that father complimented me.

He does not often let you know that he is proud of you, other than that I have only heard him praise my sister for her skills at swordplay, and me for my archery.

But I will have to face him now with my failure, and I am hardly expecting compliments.

O/O/O/O/O

"Come in." He calls in a stern voice; I nervously enter, feeling a child again in front of him.

"Did your brother return with you?" He barks, I shake my head, "He called himself the prince of Winterfell, and he refused to come home." My father frowns, "The fool _is_ home; he lived there all his life. That's more of a home for him than here." I cross my arms, "He… he killed the Stark boys."

That seems to surprise my father, he looks at me in confusion so I continue, "Brandon and Rickon Stark, the youngest two, he put their heads on spikes."

My father smiles grimly, "You mean the three year old and the seven year old cripple." I nod, he laughs, a cruel hard laugh, "That's my boy." He says in a disgusted tone.

I sigh and look out the window at the stony shore far below, "Well go on then, get out of here girl." I bow my head and turn to go, he sits down and puts his head in his hands.

So I leave, closing the heavy oak door and half running back down the winding stone stairs, to the training yard. I go to the weapon racks, with Asha gone and almost all the men off raiding, the yard is empty. I grab my bow, it's the most precious thing I own, Asha has her swords and I have my arrows.

The bow is from across the narrow sea, I can't remember where, it's real dragon bone, making it ten times stronger than an ordinary Westerosi wooden bow, and with it I can shoot an arrow so fast that you barely have time to blink before you're dead.

I don't like killing though; Asha is just like father; hacking and slashing and raiding. I bet my sister has killed at least two hundred men, I've only killed five, and just one was with my bow.

The first three were would-be rapists; two stable boys the first time, and a sailor the second. I carry a little dagger with me at all times, iron with an ivory handle, it's much more useful than a bow when you're dealing with rapists; usually the cravens are too close for you to use a bow on them.

The fourth time it was with my bow, he was a prisoner trying to escape, father shot at him and missed, so I shot and hit.

Father was furious at me, said I made him look a fool, but the man would have escaped if I hadn't.

And the final time was with my dagger, he was one of my men, attacked by muggers in the dead of night, they carried him back to his home and I went to see him the next day.

He begged for mercy, "Let me die from steel, not fading away in my sleep." He gasped, crazed with fever, so I slit his throat and had his body carried into the sea.

When I shoot I feel like I'm in another world.

Everything goes quiet; it's just the twang of my finger on the bowstring and the distant crashing of the waves.

I think that was what felt the most wrong about Winterfell; there were no waves. Ever since I was a babe, the water pounding against the rocks has been my lullaby, the steady breaking waves, and the falling clumps of cliff and howl of the wind across the bay.

To me, Winterfell was dead, without the sound of waves I felt vulnerable, alone.

I guess Theon's used to it though; used to the silence and the snow.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

I think that I was the only one who cried, even though I knew that it would happen.

Asha was silent; father only shook his head in disgust.

Theon was still my brother, fool or not. It seems worse to me, that he is a prisoner in the torture chambers of Ramsay Snow, even on Pyke, we know of him. The Bastard of Bolton, he's a monster, a maniac, he hunts girls like wild boars and skins men alive.

The butcher they call him, even killing two innocent boys, boys who called you brother, even for that, you didn't deserve to be _his_ prisoner. I cried that night, hot and salty tears that half froze on my cheeks, for the brother I wished that I had known.

 _Winter has come._

They were the last words I said to Theon, and most certainly the last I would ever say to him. The days grew colder here, and the war was raging on the mainland.

I'm not a child any longer, I was only seven when my brother left home, but now I'm seven and ten and I need to get out there, need to learn what is happening.

Asha returns tomorrow and I'm going with her when she leaves.

I get up from my bed, dress in a deep blue gown, almost black like storm clouds, quite fitting as the sky outside is dark and the drowned god's roars echo through the thick clouds, bolts of flaming white light cracking like a storm dragon's flame.

The wind is howling louder every minute, the waves bashing madly against the rocks below, so far below. I pray that Asha and her men return home safely; iron born or no; this storm will rage for days and leave behind a trail of death and wreckage.

O/O/O/O/O

The wind is whipping too hard around the castle to shoot, and even I am not fool enough to try. I would only loose ten arrows for every one that hit its mark; blown away and snapped against the cliff side.

The bridges are dancing the wind, swaying violently from side to side. I have lived in this castle for seventeen years, yet even I am terrified as I step out on to the wooden walkway that leads to the village. I need to go down there and see if Asha has returned, the storm grows worse every second and I fear for my sisters life.

I sprint across the bridge, heart racing and my hair blowing all around me, the ash brown strands flying in my face and growing knotted again.

But I hardly care, there's a doomful sensation, and I can't help but feel that something terrible is about to happen.

I run through the halls and my heart sinks lower, the castle seems to be empty, empty and silent. The waves crash against the rocks with a terrifying roar, the wind slams and bangs the doors and windows and screams through every hallway, but there is no laughter, no chatting and cursing and yelling, not even the sound of footsteps.

The only sounds are the deafening roar of the sea and storm, and the terrifying quiet of the castle's empty rooms.

I reach the drawbridge finally, and that's when I hear it, a tuneless wailing noise, so filled with emotion and despair that it breaks your heart.

Asha!

I run to the winding dirt road, I can see the people everywhere, crowding all around, the yelling, the sobbing, the uproar.

Asha, Asha, Asha.

I am nearly crying myself, and I am soaking wet, the frosty rains driving down on Pyke and sinking deep down into me until my heart has grown cold with terror.

I run forwards, pushing against the crowd, tears are running down my face now, and I feel so helpless. They make way for me, eyes down and faces filled with pity. I dash forwards, desperately looking for Asha, there's no wreckage that I can see, but perhaps her body just washed up.

I shove through and step forwards, the roaring ocean lies before me and a wall of iron islanders behind. I scan the beach, cold and grey and dark, so dark that it seems like night time. I see the body, crumpled and broken. I run faster than I've ever run before, pushing and shoving, children are wailing and I think I knock a few people to the stony, sandy ground, but I don't care.

Asha, Asha, oh Asha!

Is all I can think of, but as I crumble to the ground, dripping wet and shiver ring violently, the winds roaring and thundering, shaking the earth itself.

I look down at the person, my body wracked with sobs.

But it isn't Asha; it's father.

O/O/O/O/O

"I can't stay here." I say quietly, my sisters face is grim, "You would come with me? To take moat Cailin?" I shake my head, "I just want to get away Asha, away from the death and the bloodshed." She smiles sadly, "We're at war Saski. Death and bloodshed will only follow you, and where would you go? Everyone hates the ironborn little sister, there is nowhere safe for you but here, well, this place is safest..."

I nod quietly, and then the trumpets blow. I look up in surprise and Asha strides to the window.

She gasps, her face turning dark. "What is it?!" I ask nervously, Asha looks out, her mouth pressed in an angry firm line, "It's our uncle, Euron Crowseye."

As soon as our horses reach the shore, Asha has kept off and is striding off to meet the rowboats coming in to land. I stay on my grey gelding, stroking her name absentmindedly and watching the men approaching my sister.

The little boat is packed full of men, all armed and scarred and loud, roaring and laughing and talking. I can see which one is my uncle, he sits at the stern, his face is lit up with laughter, but his eyes stay cold and hard and grey.

He has ash brown hair, and he resembles father.

But where father was cruel, the Crowseye looks far, far crueler.

They say that he has sailed all around the world a hundred, hundred times; he has been gone since father banished him. That was before I was born, it seems _strange_ that he finally returns the day after father dies...

"Uncle." Asha calls out, as the boat lands on the stony shore and the men spill out, "Ah!" He cries and strolls over to her, "You must be Asha!"

Her face is relatively blank as she looks up at him, my sister is quite tall, but Euron towers above her.

"Yes." She replies, "It seems odd that after twenty years of... raiding... You return the day after my father dies?" He smiles grimly, "I see you are quite like Balon." He looks at her, his eyes cold, then his gaze travels around the island, taking in the crumbling houses and the looming towers of the castle, and then finally settling on me.

"Saski? Is it?" He smiles; I jump down from my horse and approach them warily, stopping at my sister's left, but a step behind her.

"Such a warm welcome from my sweet nieces!" He grins, his mouth a cruel, hard smirk, the men who came with him are already at the village, having not waited for their captain.

"I should go and join my men, I trust you can have rooms made ready for me in the castle." Then he walks past us, Asha scowls after him, and I can tell she would quite happily send him to sleep in a stable. But she just follows and mounts her horse; I trail behind and climb back into the saddle.

We ride back up the cliff in silence, the roaring and cursing and laughter of our uncle's men fading behind us, their chattering lost in the wind.

O/O/O/O/O

That night Asha isn't in the hall when I enter. I've lived here all my life, and I know every man on Pyke, but I feel nervous and alone when the doors close behind me.

Euron's men are spread all around, and I cross my arms and walk towards the front table where I normally sit, where I used to sit with father...

A hand grabs my dress as I walk along the benches, quick as a flash I have my dagger pointed at his throat. Then I draw back as I realise it's my uncle.

His men laugh heartily and I blush, putting the blade back into its sheath around my hip.

"Sorry girl!" He cackles, "Why don't you join us?" I bite my lip but sit as they make room for me. Soon they are all yelling at once, a deafening roar where you can't hear a word anyone's saying. Then the Crowseye begins, his voice booming and dominant, he tells tales about his adventures across the narrow sea, men interrupt and comment and add to the telling, but slowly all the other conversations start to die out until every head is turned to him, every voice is silent, all except his.

He speaks of magic and monsters, of ancient cities, a whole kingdom underwater, lands of fire and communities of people with stone faces. It seems almost like a children's story, but his face looks so earnest, so serious, that you can't help but believe every word he says.

I sit quietly, gazing up at him in wonder. Then he stops at last, and there's a split second of utter silence, where the only sound is the distant waves crashing below and the wind gently blowing through the halls.

In that second he turns and looks right at me, and I am lost in his eyes, grey and dark and dangerous, where the truth looks like a lie and the lies are so believable that you'd bet your life on every tale he spins.

His smile is small, his thin lips curving slightly, but those eyes aren't smiling, I don't know if those eyes can smile.

For just a second I look up at him, not sure if I should be afraid or angry or nervous or happy or amused or shocked. Then I look away and the hall burst to life, soon they are all yelling at once, a deafening roar where you can't hear a word anyone's saying.

I stand up and excuse myself, not noticing that I've barely touched the food on my plate. I half run from the hall, because now I know what I am feeling; now there is only fear.


End file.
